


Knead You Now

by Writcraft



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bets & Wagers, Bisexual Louis, Bottom Louis, Boys In Love, Finger Sucking, Friends to Lovers, Hand & Finger Kink, Humor, Implied Switching, M/M, Matchmaker Harry Styles, Rimming, Top Nick, Virginity Roleplay, implied praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 01:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15875943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: Harry used to be a baker, Louis definitely didn't and Nick just wants to know how the fuck they got into his kitchen.





	Knead You Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silvered_glass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvered_glass/gifts).



> Oh Silv, what a very, very belated birthday gift this silly little thing is. I hope you enjoy it and it was worth the very long wait! It's inspired by your excellent culinary skills, chatting about bakers vans, good eggs, Louis, Nick and Nick and Harry's friendship. I hope you like it, thank you for being an amazing friend. I am very lucky to have you in my life.

When Nick gets home from another thrilling day at Yorkshire FM, he finds Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson poking around his kitchen. It’s odd, given the fact that they don’t live with Nick and Nick’s pretty sure he would remember his stupidly fit neighbours asking to come over. Not to mention Louis is on first name terms with at least four Deliveroo drivers, probably has friends and family rates at Domino’s and doesn’t exactly seem like the sort to spend much time in the kitchen. Nick checks his phone, but the only unread text is Fiona from work telling Nick to get in early on Monday accompanied by three grimacing emojis and the skull. The last text from Harry was a picture of a baby turtle sent two days ago. Louis doesn’t even have Nick’s number. Nick suspects Louis doesn’t like him much, mainly because he says things like _afternoon knobhead_ when Nick bumps into him outside having a fag by the bins. 

Pig is curled up on Louis’s feet, but Nick’s appearance makes her bark and chase her tail with excitement. She barrels towards Nick and jumps up at him, wagging her tail almost off. She gives him her best lollopy grin and Nick really doesn’t have the heart to tell her off for being the worst guard dog in the world. 

“Hiya, Piggy.” Nick ruffles her head and shakes her paw before she betrays him by going back to Louis, nudging at his leg with her nose until he starts fussing over her. “I’d have gone for the laptop and the telly, myself.” Nick shrugs off his coat. “If I was going to steal summat.”

Louis pulls a face. “Your telly’s shit. Ours is three times the size, mate.”

Nick glares at Louis, who has a tendency to make Nick want to throttle him or spank him. “Sounds like overcompensating if you ask me.” He folds his arms. “Also, how the fuck did you get in?”

“You gave me a spare key.” Harry has his back to Nick and he’s on his tip-toes rooting through one of the cupboards. “Don’t you remember?”

Now Harry mentions it, Nick does have a vague recollection of a particularly intense Notebook watching session that ended with Nick getting on the wine and moaning on about being on his own forever. He thinks he gave Harry a key in a moment of desperation after saying something like _I’ll die alone, and they’ll find my body three weeks later half-eaten by Alsatians_. Nick usually prefers a Bridesmaids quote to Bridget Jones, but it seemed like a Bridget sort of meltdown. He tends to get neurotic after too many rom-coms and Harry doesn’t half love a rom-com by candlelight. It makes things bloody uncomfortable, particularly as Nick still isn’t sure if Harry and Louis are _Harry and Louis_ in an _intimately connected with one another’s knobs_ sort of way. Louis probably thinks Nick’s trying to get into Harry’s trousers, which is stupid because nobody could get anything into jeans that tight. 

“You have a key so you can recover my dead body in the event of a tragic accident, Harold.” Nick ignores Louis’s derisory snort. “I didn’t give you permission to let yourself in to steal all my pans.”

“We’re not stealing your pans, you twat.” Louis rolls his eyes. “We’re having a baking competition.”

Nick stares at Louis, because that makes precisely no sense whatsoever. “You’re doing what?”

“I used to be a baker,” Harry says, as if that answers everything. He turns and Nick notices he’s wearing an apron with _I’m on a roll!_ and a picture of an enthusiastic baguette on the front. It’s terrible. “I also had sex in a baker’s van, once.”

“Don’t we all know it,” Louis mutters. He’s not wearing an apron – you tend not to need those for shoving a few frozen nuggets in the oven or picking up a KFC – but he is, inexplicably, brandishing a rolling pin. He taps the rolling pin in his open palm like a short, threatening Jamie Oliver. “Besides, you told me you didn’t actually bake anything.”

“Too busy having sex in that van,” Nick guesses. “No time for kneading bread when you’re trying to flirt over iced buns.”

Harry frowns at Nick. “It was just the once. I was a model employee.”

“Pity you had to leave them to be a popstar,” Nick says. “They’re probably crying into the sourdough as we speak.”

“Probably.” Harry’s frown disappears, and he gives Nick a familiar dimpled smile. He loves it when Nick calls him a popstar, even though being the lead singer and erstwhile guitarist in a band called _The Curly Kales_ hasn’t exactly catapulted him to superstardom. Nick can’t help but feel Harry’s going to prove him right one day. Made for fame, that one. He’d look good in something ridiculous and fancy, like silk Gucci or Armani loafers. 

Harry crouches down to rummage through Nick’s cupboards again, grabbing a couple of Perspex bowls Nick doesn’t even remember buying. His mum probably got them from Wilkos and shoved them in Nick’s kitchen when he wasn’t looking in the hope he might become a proper adult, find a nice boyfriend and learn how to make a flan. “I’ve watched every episode of Bake Off. Tommo hasn’t seen any of it.”

“No, because I’m not a dickhead like you,” Louis replies.

“Take that back.” Nick won’t have anyone slagging off Mary Berry in his flat, not even if Louis is annoyingly fit. “Bake Off’s brilliant.”

“If you say so, Nicholas.” Louis huffs and leans back against the kitchen counter. “We’re here because we need a judge.” Louis says it slowly, like Nick’s an idiot for not immediately jumping to the least obvious conclusion. “Niall’s busy, Liam’s off out with that Cheryl he’s been knocking around with and Zayn said he didn’t want to, so we thought of you.”

“Oh thanks.” Nick folds his arms and glares at Louis. “So nice to know you thought of me after everyone else said no.”

“Not everyone said no. My sister hasn’t replied yet.” Louis waves his phone in Nick’s direction. He’s got a picture of himself looking like a smug tit and holding the FA cup as a screensaver. Bloody Louis. “She’s probably busy. Friday night, innit? Where’s your whisk?”

Nick raises his eyebrows at Louis and points. “It’s that thing hanging next to your head.” Nick’s still bristling over the fact both Louis and Harry clearly assumed he would be available to judge their barmy competition. “Maybe I’ve got plans, too. I could have plans.”

Harry pauses in his rummaging and gives Louis a look Nick can’t quite decipher. “We can go, if you’ve got something else on.” Harry blinks at Nick. It’s very disconcerting sometimes being caught in one of his stares. “You’ve probably got a bloke coming over or something.”

Nick’s starting to wish he hadn’t been quite so insistent about the _having plans_ thing. After Henry and Gelz moved to London to be posh, he hasn’t had a decent night out in donkeys. Friday nights are for a swift couple of pints with Fiona and Will. If he can be bothered he sometimes gets on Grindr or goes into Manchester but even that’s getting boring. He tends to opt for Corrie and a curry these days.

“No bloke.” Nick tries not to sound sad about it. He’s sure Louis and Harry have clocked the steady stream of boys over at Nick’s when he’s going through a time of it. Josh (or Ross, Nick can’t quite remember) said he bumped into a bloke having a ciggie outside who wanted to know if Nick had fully recovered from that nasty bout of genital warts. Nick didn’t speak to Louis for a fortnight after that and left a post-it on Louis and Harry’s front door saying _Louis Tomlinson is a knobhead_. It’s not that he cares if they think he’s a slag – he takes more pride in that than he probably should. It’s more that he hates the fact they must have noticed no one ever sticks around for longer than a few weeks. 

Nick braces himself for Louis’s scathing comment as he contemplates Nick through narrowed eyes. “We’re better than those lads you get off Grindr or wherever the fuck, anyway,” Louis says instead, much to Nick’s surprise.

Nick laughs, despite himself. “You do know that those lads off Grindr don’t come over to bake cakes, darling?” As soon as he says it, Nick wants to snatch it back. He can’t flirt with Louis fucking Tomlinson because he’s _Louis_ and there’s every possibility he’s also Harry’s.

“Louis can do more than bake a sponge, Grim.” Harry’s voice is muffled, because his head is shoved into one of Nick’s cupboards. He emerges triumphant, brandishing two cake tins and smirking in a way that should be illegal. “Can’t you, Tommo?”

Nick swallows, his gaze flitting from Louis to Harry. Louis is strangely quiet and gets red in the cheeks. He looks like he’s about to thwack Harry on the head with the rolling pin. Nick thinks he might need to sit down because his already weird night is getting rapidly weirder. Louis is a complete and utter menace whenever Nick’s around. It’s not that Nick doesn’t think he’s able to pull a fit bloke – he’s done it enough times – but he’d always pretty much assumed Harry and Louis were…well. _Harry and Louis_. He licks his lips slowly and clears his throat. “Excuse me?”

“Ignore him, he’s being a twat.” Louis gives Harry a none too gentle shove and pulls a face. “Where’s the loo?”

“Through there.” Nick waves a hand in the direction of the hall. “Or there’s one in my room.” 

Louis gives Nick a dangerous smile. “Your room?”

“No going through my drawers, Tomlinson.” Nick glares at Louis. “Keep your nose out.”

“As if I’d want to go through your drawers anyway. Probably full of Astroglide and pictures of dicks.” 

“Takes one to know one,” Nick says. Louis raises his eyebrows and Nick makes an irritated sound in the back of his throat. “I’m calling you a wanker. Just bugger off and go to the loo.” Nick waits for Louis to leave before turning to Harry. “What the _fuck_ , Haz?”

“It’s just a competition,” Harry replies, clearly unperturbed by Nick’s hyperventilating. “If I win, he has to do what I want. If he wins, I have to do what he wants.”

Nick can’t believe the nerve of it. “You’re using me for your sex games?”

“What?” Harry gets his head out of Nick’s cupboard, finally. “Who’s playing sex games?”

“You and your short-arse wanker of a boyfriend, apparently.” 

“Oh.” Harry laughs, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. “That’s not what’s happening here. You thought we were shagging?”

“I thought you were something.” Nick shrugs. A kernel of curiosity makes him push the question. “You’re not?”

“Nope.” Harry gives Nick a knowing smile. “Why do you care anyway, Grim?”

“I don’t,” Nick replies, without much conviction. “Obviously.”

“ _Obviously_.” Harry rolls his eyes. “For what it’s worth, you were always my first choice for judging. You’re very…”

“Judgmental?” Louis returns just in time and gives Nick a sharp grin. It’s the sort of grin that says _I’ve been nosing through your drawers looking for sex toys_. Nick rubs the back of his neck which is getting hot and a bit sweaty at the thought of _Louis_ and _sex toys_ in the same sentence.

“Fuck off,” Nick replies. “Thank you _Harry_ for thinking of me. I’ll judge this weird competition if you want.”

“We’ll leave you alone so you can have a wank on the internet later,” Louis offers, generous soul that he is. Nick is about ready to throttle him.

“Nice of you to be so interested in my orgasms, pet.” Nick gives Louis what he hopes is a serene smile. 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Couldn’t give a fuck about them, mate.”

“Don’t you want to know what the bet is?” Harry looks at the row of ingredients with a satisfied sigh. 

“ _Haz_.” Louis gives Harry a sharp look.

“Yeah.” Nick looks from Louis to Harry and back again. Something’s going on and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it. “If you win, he has to do what you want. If Harold wins, you have to do what he wants.”

“That’s all you need to know.” Louis elbows Harry in the side. “I’m going to have Haz do the washing up for a month and if he wins he’s going to make me do something just as horrible, that’s it.”

“I do the washing up anyway.” Harry shakes his head. “It’s a waste. You should make me do something really terrible.”

“Wait.” Nick holds up his hand and they both – surprisingly – stop talking. He points at Louis. “What does he have to do if he loses?”

“I said he had to snog you.” Harry starts humming something that sounds like Britney and opens the fridge. “Drinks?”

Nick stares at Louis whose cheeks have taken on a distinctly pink tinge. “Kissing me is as bad as washing your moldy dishes for a month?”

“Of course not.” Louis fiddles with the whisk and doesn’t meet Nick’s eye. “Kissing you is much worse.”

“Oh well thanks _very_ much.” Nick glares at Louis and grabs Harry, shoving him out of the kitchen and into the hall. “Styles.”

“Grim?” Harry looks over his shoulder and then leans in, speaking quietly. “Just trust me. You’ve known me for long enough. He’s only a gobby twat if he really likes someone. I know Louis, he’s miserable and you’re miserable. You cried at _Titanic_ last week.”

Nick stares at Harry. “It’s a sad film. It doesn’t mean I want to get off with your bratty pal. You don’t know as much as you think you do.” Nick’s heart gives a pathetic little jump and his hands have got all sweaty, so that may not be strictly true. 

“Whatever you say.” Harry heads back into the kitchen, looking over his shoulder. “Coming?”

“I….in a minute.” Nick leans against the wall, trying to collect himself. He hears raised voices from the kitchen and moves closer to listen, because apparently Harry and Louis have turned him into a creepy eavesdropper in his own home.

“Doesn’t it take hours to bake a cake?”

“Good point.” Nick can almost hear Harry’s brow furrowing.

“I said you didn’t think this through,” Louis hisses. “Let’s have a baking competition, you said. He’ll be into it because he loves Bake Off, you said. You’re such a dickhead, I don’t know why I listen to you.”

Nick composes himself for long enough to interject before the whole thing gets derailed. He pushes open the kitchen door and doesn’t make eye contact with Louis, his heart hammering in his chest. He manages to speak levelly as if it’s perfectly normal to come home to his neighbours plotting some odd baking related game in his kitchen that may or may not result in Nick getting off with someone ridiculously fit. 

“Can I choose what you make?”

Harry’s eyes shine, and he grins at Nick. “If you like.”

Nick nods. He doesn’t miss the way Louis looks between Harry and Nick, a flicker of uncertainty shadowing his face and Nick can’t help but wonder if Louis thinks Nick’s only going along with this because of Harry. He waits until Louis catches his gaze again and gives him a questioning smile. “Okay with you, love?”

“Suppose,” Louis mutters. He shoves his hands into his joggers and stares at the floor, pointedly not looking at Nick. 

“Okay.” Nick takes a breath as Harry and Louis look at him expectantly, awaiting instruction. He settles into a chair by the kitchen counter which gives him an excellent view and can’t help but feel a bit regal. Like one of them judges on the X-Factor. He racks his brains for something – anything – that isn’t going to take bloody hours and that sounds vaguely baking related. “Make an omelette.”

Harry pulls a face. “That’s not baking.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “I haven’t had my tea yet and all this food talk is making me hungry. Besides, the only other thing I can think of is puff pastry because they’re always complaining about that on Bake Off. No one has the time for all that refrigerating and sitting around.”

“I can make omelettes.” Louis looks chuffed, grabbing the whisk before Harry can get to it. “This is going to be easy. Stop complaining, Haz and make Nicholas here his tea.” He breaks a couple of eggs into a jug and Nick is fairly certain a couple of bits of shell go in. “What the fuck is puff pastry?”

Harry launches into the detailed explanation nobody asked for, moving around the kitchen and grabbing bits of cheese, basil, mushrooms and tomatoes. Nick doesn’t have the heart to interrupt Louis from his whisking to point out that mini Babybells are not prime omelette material. He takes in Harry and Louis jostling each other as they stand side by side at the stove and it makes his chest tight. _I could get used to this_. Nick shakes the thought away because he refuses to start getting maudlin about his pathetic love life. He pours himself a glass of wine and gets another beer for Louis and juice for Harry, wincing when Louis adds an experimental splash of Budweiser to the omelette.

“Welsh rarebit, innit?” Louis looks pleased with himself and Nick takes a gulp of his wine to stop himself from pointing out that’s made with cheese, not egg and ale, not lager. He’s ridiculously endeared by the way Louis’s chest puffs out proudly as he pokes at the Babybell which is refusing to melt. “Do you remember that time Niall made us chicken?”

Harry grimaces. “We made him order pizza.” He shoots Louis a smile. “ _You_ made him order pizza.”

“How is Niall?” The delicious smells from Harry’s frying pan makes Nick’s stomach growl. He’s bloody starving. He’s only had a breakfast bar and a packet of Wotsits all day. The Yorkshire FM canteen makes terrible food. It’s the sort of place Louis would do well in, if he wasn’t busy being fit and teaching the kids P.E. at the local state school. Nick casts an appreciative look at Louis. He’s small but athletic and he’s pretty much exactly Nick’s type, when he’s not opening his mouth and telling Nick his new shirt makes him look like a pillock. 

“Good. He’s the best, Niall is.” Louis throws another splash of lager in the omelette and Nick tries not to wince. Niall’s in Harry’s band. Nick went to see them once at a tiny pub in Oldham and Niall was affable and charming. Nick thinks he’s a delight. 

A thought occurs to Nick as he watches Harry and Louis. He can’t help but wonder if he’s just another in a line of people who have been kissed because one of them lost a bet. “Have you done this with people before?”

Harry looks up at Nick, deliberately evasive. “Make omelettes?” Harry’s very good at avoiding questions about personal things when he wants to. A proper elusive chanteuse, that one.

“Yeah, that’s obviously the question I’m asking.” Nick rolls his eyes. He sighs and has another sip of his wine. “Doesn’t matter. None of my business, is it?” He can’t help but feel there’s a long, complicated, potentially messy history with Harry and Louis and he doesn’t know the first thing about it. He doesn’t even know if Louis likes men, or if this is just some idea Harry’s cooked up after too many romcoms. 

Harry and Louis exchange a look and Louis shrugs, before glancing at Nick. “’Course we haven’t – nobody else would be mad enough to give Harry a key to their house.” 

“A key I’m definitely taking back.” Nick clinks his glass with Harry’s. They both know he won’t make Harry give the key back. Nick leans in and studies the omelettes. “Ready, then?”

“Just about.” Harry plates up the most delicious looking omelette Nick has ever seen in his life, and Louis plates up something scrambled egg-ish. 

“Good job, Harold.” Nick takes a couple of bites of Harry’s omelette. _God_ it’s good. He eats almost two thirds of it and makes a brilliant joke about being in eggstacy, before he realises Louis is looking angrier by the moment. “Right then.” Nick takes a tentative forkful of the omelette Louis made. Yep, that’s definitely shell. Not to mention there’s so much salt in it Nick would spit it into his napkin if he had a napkin. He chews slowly and swallows, trying not to make a face. 

“It’s okay?” Louis looks slightly flushed and eager and _Christ_ it’s a lot. It makes Nick think of things he probably shouldn’t be thinking about, like Louis in his bed. Nick glances at Harry and hopes he’s got this right. The thing is, he knows Harry. He knows Harry likes to win (they’ve played Scrabble together enough times) but he also has a sense that Louis might want to win too, and he seems proud of his terrible omelette. Not to mention if Nick gives the win to Harry, it’s basically the same as asking Louis to snog him and Nick isn’t sure he wants to do that with Harry ogling them both and quoting Julia Roberts in the background. 

“More than okay. Congratulations, Louis Tomlinson!” Nick puts the fork down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand after sneaking another quick bite of Harry’s omelette. “You’re the winner.”

Louis narrows his eyes and glares at Nick. “Why didn’t you eat all of it, then?”

“Full, aren’t I?” Nick rubs his stomach and shoots Harry another grin. “Ate too much of Haz’s omelette. Bleugh.” He pulls a face and Harry rolls his eyes.

“This is a fix, man.” Harry takes a bite of both omelettes and spits Louis’s out into a piece of kitchen roll when Louis isn’t looking. 

“You’re sure?” Louis looks like he still doesn’t believe Nick. He folds his arms and his face takes on a fierce expression. He looks almost…disappointed. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m the judge, I get the final word.” Nick shushes Louis’s protests and gives him a look. “Anyone would think you don’t want to win.”

“Oh.” Louis pauses mid _but Haz used basil_. He shakes his head, holding Nick’s gaze and his cheeks get a bit pink. “I wanted to win. Thank god I don’t have to snog you. That would be ranker than Harry’s rubbish omelette.” 

“Thank god,” Nick agrees, rolling his eyes. He points vaguely to the hall. “Don’t you have a pile of Tommo’s dirty dishes to get started on, Harold?”

“There’s no _way_ he beat—” Harry catches Nick’s eye and stops. His face breaks into a broad smile. “I mean, of course that’s what I should do.” He looks around Nick’s kitchen. “Louis should, err, probably stay and help you clean up though.”

“Probably should,” Nick agrees. “To convince me not to report you to the police for breaking and entering, or summat.”

“We had a—”

“Key, I know.” Nick ushers Harry to the door and opens it, leaning against the door frame as Harry smiles beatifically at him. “Stop that.”

“What?” Harry does something that is probably supposed to be a dance. “You think he’s gorgeous, you want to kiiisss him, you want to huuug him—”

“Night, Mr Congeniality.” Nick cuts off Harry’s (terrible) Sandra Bullock impression by closing the door in his face. He opens it again after a second, lowering his voice so big-ears Tomlinson can’t hear him. “You better not have got this wrong.”

“As if.” Harry leans in and gives Nick a quick hug. “My omelette was definitely better though.”

“Yeah, Haz. It was.” Nick lets himself get caught up in Harry’s spidery arms and hugs him tightly, a rush of affection making him a bit emotional. “Thanks. For, like, trying to make me happy.”

“I’m trying to make both of you happy.” Harry pulls back from the hug. “You can thank me by washing his dishes if you end up getting a shag out of this. He’s messy as fuck.”

Nick closes the door on Harry and this time he doesn’t open it again. He makes his way into the kitchen, where Louis looks like he’s going to start throwing crockery around. 

“What’s up with you?”

“My omelette’s terrible.” Louis crosses his arms and glares at Nick. “I’ve just tasted them. Harry’s is like…it’s good.”

“Like a dream,” Nick agrees. He leans against the kitchen counter, contemplating Louis. “Still, I thought you had a better whisking technique.”

“You did not.” Louis snorts. He looks at Nick carefully. “Didn’t you want him to win, then?”

“Not particularly.” Nick shrugs. “I don’t much like the idea of someone kissing me because they lost a competition. Bit shit, isn’t it?”

Louis makes a strangled sound. “I didn’t _want_ to win you tit, why did you think I put lager and half a mug of salt in it, I know how to make a fucking omelette. You’re such a bloody knobhead, you ruined everything just like I knew you would, if you just let Harry win then—”

“Then what?” Nick moves closer to Louis, effectively pinning him against the counter. He can practically feel Louis vibrating out of his skin. “If I let Harry win then _what_?”

“Why are you such a dickhead?” Breathless, Louis presses his body against Nick’s. “You just want me to say it.”

“Yeah, I do a bit.” Nick puts his palms flat on the counter, bracketing Louis. He groans when Louis’s breath catches in his throat. “Oh, fuck this.”

Nick moves his hand to the back of Louis’s neck and their lips meet. It’s like all of Nick’s fantasies and at the same time completely unexpected. He never expected Louis to be so eager, or pliant for a start. Louis wraps his arms around Nick and pulls him close, kissing with all of the force and fight Nick’s come to expect from Louis. It’s his complications and contradictions that have always made him interesting to Nick, and he wants to take Louis apart slowly and work out all the things that make him tick. His mind races as they kiss and he can’t help but imagine how Louis might look stretched out on his sheets with his hands over his head and his cheeks flushed. Nick groans into the kiss, sliding his hands down Louis’s back and finally – finally – getting them onto Louis’s gorgeous backside. He squeezes, and it seems to send Louis into overdrive, his kisses getting wetter, messier and more urgent. Nick wants to slide Louis’s joggers off and blow him right here in the kitchen but even as the thought crosses his mind the _click, clack_ of Pig’s paws on the wooden floor interrupts them. Nick pulls back for just long enough to catch his breath, pressing his cheek against Louis’s and trying to steady his breathing.

“God.” Nick is acutely aware of Louis’s body, the hardness against his thigh and the way his bum feels under Nick’s palms. He can feel the ragged huffs of Louis’s breath against his skin and he’s glad it’s not just him that’s feeling all over the place after the kiss. He pulls back to look at Louis, gesturing to the side. “Pig wants feeding.”

“Yeah.” Louis looks as though he’s about to say something, but he stops. “Feed her. I’ll wash up.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the washing up. Leave it. This won’t take a minute.” Nick is all fingers and thumbs and his hands are actually shaking. He can’t remember the last time a kiss had this impact on him and it feels terribly important that he doesn’t fuck it up by doing something stupid or saying the wrong thing. He wants Louis to stay. Not just for a fumble on the kitchen counter, but for a long, satisfying shag in bed. He wants to wake up in the morning with Louis and show him how to make a proper omelette, or maybe make it together jostling and arguing like Harry and Louis before at Nick’s crappy oven. 

“Nick.” Louis is by Nick’s side in an instant, his hand warm on Nick’s back. 

“Louis.” Nick leans into Louis. He slips an arm around Louis’s waist and thumbs under his t-shirt, above the waistband of Louis’s joggers where his skin is warm and soft. He kisses Louis’s ear, keeping him close. The song _How Do You Like Your Eggs in the Morning_ keeps rolling around in his head and he has to stop himself from humming it in Louis’s ear. _I like mine with a kiss_. “How long do I get to keep you for?”

Louis pulls back enough to look at Nick, an eyebrow arched. He looks pleased with himself. “How long do you want to keep me for?”

Nick swallows, because isn’t that just the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. “Until the morning,” Nick says. He keeps Louis close, rubbing his thumb against his skin and noticing the way Louis closes his eyes as his throat works. “After. I like a lie in on a Saturday. All those early mornings give me wrinkles.”

Louis laughs, bright and loud. He opens his eyes and gives Nick a gentle shove away, moving to start packing away the ludicrous amount of ingredients, pots and pans Harry unearthed from the depths of Nick’s cupboards. “Most of them don’t stay the night.” Louis says _them_ with a scornful air, which is fair because Nick really has had a good number of dickheads come and go since Louis and Harry moved in next door and turned Nick’s life upside down.

“You’re here anyway,” Nick replies. “Can’t get rid of you.” He says it lightly, hoping Louis knows he’s teasing. The last thing he wants to do is get rid of Louis.

“Better not fuck it up, then.” Louis chucks a couple of tins into the cupboard and straightens, taking a swig of his beer and shooting Nick a smile. “Might make it awkward.”

“Yeah.” Christ, Nick hadn’t even thought of that. A horrible image of having to watch a steady stream of fit models at Louis’s door comes to mind. 

“What?” Louis raises an eyebrow at Nick, unfortunately appearing to have clocked his imminent breakdown.

“Nothing.” Nick shakes himself, because he can’t recall seeing Louis snogging anyone or going out of an evening with lads other than Niall, Liam, Zayn or Harry. He’s not sure why that would start now. He contemplates Louis and fusses over Pig. “Do you go into Manchester much?”

“Sometimes. For the footie.” Louis looks up, confused. “Why?”

“Just wondered.” Nick licks his lips, his throat dry. “What about Grindr?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m not on anything like that.” He watches Pig run off to her bed, a fake bone in her mouth. “You can just ask me if I’m seeing anyone.”

“Not any of my business, is it?”

“Might be.” Louis gives Nick a look up and down. “If we’re going to fuck later and I’m going to stay the night.”

 _God_. Nick sucks in a breath and nods, trying to find the right words. “Are you?”

“No. Not yet.” Louis gives Nick a grin and hums Oasis under his breath as he continues tidying up. 

Nick takes a moment to process the _not yet_ and has an indulgent moment enjoying the way Louis seems to fit in his space just right. Short, mouthy, annoying and absolutely bloody _lovely_. Nick washes his hands and helps Louis put away the last few bits. “Why haven’t I seen you with blokes before?”

“Because it’s not what I do.”

“Blokes?” Confused, Nick frowns at Louis. 

“No, you tit. Shagging around. One-night stands.” Louis sighs and pushes a hand through his hair. “Nearly got a girl pregnant once, doing that. Gave me a bit of a scare. There was El, then Danielle, then El again. Girls like me.” Louis gives Nick a rueful smile. “Blokes haven’t really wanted to stick around.”

An unfamiliar protectiveness flares in Nick’s chest and he swallows around the lump in his throat. “Then they’re idiots.”

Louis shakes his head. “It’s fine. I had some fun then went back to Eleanor after a bit then that went to pot and I just…stopped. Stopped shagging around, stopped going out, deleted all the internet stuff. Had a bit of time to myself.” 

Nick studies Louis, thinking about _Eleanor_ and _Danielle_. “You like girls too?”

Louis nods. He quirks a smile at Nick. “That a problem?”

“Nope.” Nick shakes his head. It’s not something he’s thought about, mainly because he’s not usually in a place where he gives much of a fuck about anything other than sexual preferences and first names. He moves closer to Louis and slides a hand under his t-shirt, pressing his palm against Louis’s hot stomach. “Have you …with men before?”

“Watched the footie?” Louis’s voice is slightly gruff, as his hands find Nick’s arms. “Gone for a drive? Been to see Oasis? Because there was this one time which was _sick_ , by the way when Liam—”

“Fucked.” Nick cuts Louis off, pulling him in close. “Have you fucked other men before?”

“Yeah, Nick.” Louis plays with the buttons on Nick’s shirt. “I’ve fucked other men before. I give excellent blowies, if you’re interested.” 

“You’re a terror,” Nick says. “And I’m always interested in those.” He tries to sound casual as he asks, “any particular preference for how that goes?”

Louis undoes one of the buttons, concentrating on Nick’s chest instead of looking at him. “Depends who I’m with.”

Nick mulls that over. He’s pretty flexible himself but he definitely has his preferences and there’s something about Louis that makes Nick’s primal instincts kick into gear. He tightens his grip on Louis’s hips. “I prefer topping but it’s not, like, a deal breaker.”

Louis sucks in a breath. “I haven’t been fucked by anyone for ages.” He looks up, a smile playing over his lips. “Do you wish I hadn’t done it at all?” He lowers his voice and presses sinfully close to Nick which steals the breath from his lungs. “Does the idea of being the first turn you on?”

“I’m not a pervert,” Nick says, primly. He suspects he might be though, because his cock definitely gave an enthusiastic twitch at the thought of _being the first_. As a rule, Nick isn’t that kinky. He spent a lot of time working on the basics, because he quite likes being good in bed. He might be crap at keeping men around, but he knows he’s excellent at the sex stuff. He takes great pride in boasting about it to his friends in the pub until they buy him another pint just to shut him up. He told Harry about one of his threesomes once – because Harry’s a popstar in training and should therefore appreciate such things – and Harry left Nick by himself for a good ten minutes to go and have a smoke. Nick knows for a fact Harry hasn’t touched a cigarette in his life. 

“Never said you were.” Louis undoes another one of Nick’s buttons. “Just saying we can pretend if you like.” His voice gets low again and it does all sorts of things to Nick’s body. “I’ve been thinking about you, you know. With all of those wankers coming over.”

“You have?” Nick sighs as Louis’s fingers graze over his chest. “Mmm. What have you been thinking about, apart from telling Ross or whatever the fuck his name was I had genital warts.”

“I’d forgotten about that.” Louis laughs under his breath. “I think his name was Josh, mate.”

“I couldn’t give a fuck,” Nick says, honestly. Louis looks pleased.

“Stupid hair.”

“The stupidest.” Nick moves Louis’s fringe from his forehead. “Terrible face.”

“Horrible,” Louis agrees. He unbuttons the last of Nick’s shirt buttons. “So, I was thinking of you and those blokes.”

“When you were wanking?” Nick grins at Louis. He means it as a joke, but the joke’s on him when Louis gives him a wicked smile. “Oh my god, you were not.”

“You asked.” Louis shrugs, completely unbothered. He gets his hands on Nick’s chest and looks up at him. “I was thinking what you’d be like. I thought you’d probably be good and how I’d like that. How I’d like you taking it slow.” Louis draws the word out, his fingers slipping under the waistband of Nick’s trousers.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Nick groans and gives Louis a nudge. “Bedroom’s that way.”

“I know.” Louis makes his way through the flat, stripping off his t-shirt and dropping it on the floor as he goes because he’s a filthy menace and it’s possible Nick is already utterly besotted with him. He kicks off his trainers and yanks off his socks, chucking them on the floor before sitting back on Nick’s bed. He adjusts himself in his jogging bottoms and gives Nick a grin. “What would you do to me if I was one of your lads from Grindr and I hadn’t done this before?”

Nick contemplates Louis and slips out of his shirt, kicking off his own shoes and socks and stripping down to his boxers. He notices with some satisfaction the appreciative look Louis gives him as his eyes flick inevitably downwards and rake over the sizeable bulge in Nick’s pants.

Nick gets on the bed, moving half over Louis and pressing his hand against Louis’s cock through the thick joggers. It makes Louis move his head back, exposing the arch of his lovely neck. Nick wants to do so many things to Louis, he hardly knows where to start. “If we’re doing this, you have to go along with my pervy fantasy too.”

“Yeah?” Louis looks at Nick, bright eyed. “What’s that, then?”

“You’re not some lad off the internet. Not some stranger that I’m going to want to clear off afterwards.” Nick slides his hand off Louis’s cock and runs his fingers over his belly. “You’re my bratty neighbour. The one I’ve been wanting to get off with since he flicked ash on my new Vans and told me my quiff looked flaccid.”

Louis wriggles on the bed, looking smug. “This neighbour sounds like a delight. Absolute charmer. What a top lad.”

“He’s a bit of a knobhead, actually.” Nick gets his fingers under the waistband of Louis’s tracksuit bottoms, just enough to tease him by not getting to the end prize just yet. “Fit, though. P.E. teacher.”

“Bet he’s dead flexible, with all that sport.” Louis gets hold of Nick’s wrist and tries unsuccessfully to push Nick’s hand lower. “ _Nick_.”

“Yes, darling?” Nick sits up, ignoring Louis’s splutter of protest and slides off Louis’s trackies and pants until he’s completely starkers in all his tanned, naked glory. He looks good enough to eat, spread out on Nick’s white sheets with his cock hard and eager. It makes Nick’s mouth water, just looking at him. “So, you want me to show you how this goes, pet?”

Louis groans and fists his hands in the sheets, clutching them and nodding. His eyes flutter closed. He looks so gone already. “Yeah.” He opens his eyes enough to give Nick a filthy stare that goes straight to his cock. “Never done this before.”

“Bet you’re desperate for it.” Nick reaches for his lube and condoms, opening the drawer and dumping them on the bed next to Louis. He runs his thumb over Louis’s jaw, feeling it clench beneath his skin. “Bet you’re so ready, waiting all this time.”

“I _am_.” Louis – amazingly – parts his lips willingly when Nick nudges his thumb against them. He lets Nick slide his thumb into his mouth and sucks it, flicking his tongue against it in a thoroughly distracting fashion. Nick removes his thumb from Louis’s mouth and feeds him two fingers slowly. He holds his breath as Louis sucks them into his mouth and groans around them. There’s something so erotic about watching Louis do that. It seems Louis thinks so too, because his eyes get glazed and his hand sneaks down to wrap around his cock.

“So desperate for it you could come like this, couldn’t you? You could just get yourself off having my fingers in that pretty mouth of yours.” Nick watches Louis squeeze and stroke himself for just long enough to take in the rhythm, pace and the way Louis smears pre-come over the slit of his cock, bucking into his own fist. “Stop touching, Lou.”

“God.” Louis slides his hand from his cock as Nick removes his fingers from Louis’s mouth. “ _Please_ just fucking do something, will you? You’re driving me mad.”

Nick laughs. “I haven’t even started yet.” He runs his fingers up Louis’s thigh, watching how his legs fall apart. He’s so responsive to everything Nick does. It makes Nick want to keep touching him and never stop. He brushes his fingers lightly over Louis’s balls and lets out a contented _hmm_ as Louis squirms again. “You shower before coming here, love?”

Louis blinks his eyes open and nods, strangely quiet. “Might have.”

“Ever been rimmed, darling?”

“No.” Louis’s skin is so hot under Nick’s fingers, his cheeks delightfully flushed. “For real, no.”

“With a gorgeous arse like that?” Nick _tsks_ , rolling his eyes at himself for the leap of pleasure that courses through him. If Louis hasn’t been rimmed before, Nick suspects there are quite a few other things that he might not have tried. “People haven’t been taking care of you properly.”

“They haven’t.” There’s something strange in Louis’s voice which Nick can’t quite decipher. There’s an edge of urgency and wistfulness to it. Nick moves to sit upright on the bed, his back propped against the headboard.

“Is that what you want?” Nick tugs Louis into his lap, sliding his hands over Louis’s sides. “You want me to take care of you?”

“It’s just always been a bit shit,” Louis says. “I thought it would be different.”

Nick raises his eyebrows at Louis. “Still playing, or is this for real?”

“This is for real.” Louis groans and shakes his head. “Fuck. I’m messing everything up.”

“You’re not.” Nick pulls Louis into a slow kiss and then releases him, keeping his hands stroking over Louis’s thighs. He has a strange, desperate desire to look after Louis. _For real_. To unpick his secrets, to learn all of those details that make him wary and jittery, the reason he pulls at Nick’s metaphorical pigtails and pokes and pokes just to get a rise. Nick wants to work out the reason he got that odd, hopeful look about him when he made Nick the worst scrambled eggs he’s ever eaten in his life. “You’re not messing anything up. Apart from that omelette. That was shit.”

Louis snorts and shifts in Nick’s lap. “Got me naked in your bed, Nicholas. I’d say it went perfectly.”

“If I don’t die of salt poisoning before we get to have a shag.” Nick squeezes Louis’s backside and leans in to press a kiss to Louis’s collarbone. “Tell me what’s been missing.”

Prickly and jumpy, Louis pulls a face and doesn’t meet Nick’s eyes. Nick lets him fight whatever internal war is going on in his head, without trying to push. Eventually, Louis looks at Nick again. 

“I’ve always looked after people. Me sisters and mum. I send a bit of money back when I can, not that I’ve got a lot.” Louis gives Nick a rueful smile. “At least mum let me think I was looking after her. I think she looked after me most of the time.”

“Mums do that,” Nick replies, easily. 

“Yeah.” Louis rubs his cheek. “I’ve known I liked men for ages, but I built the bloke bit up in my head before anything happened as this big thing. I had all these ideas that I’d let go a bit more.”

“With a man?” Nick asks, carefully. He doesn’t think Louis needs some long-winded lecture about gender having little to do with the sort of things people like to do in bed. He’s not sure he’s even the person that could give a lecture like that. He’d probably have to get his mate Gillian on speaker and that would definitely kill the mood. “But you didn’t want to?”

“Dunno.” Louis shrugs. “Not when I was in a shit B&B by King’s Cross station with some idiot who kept calling me _Lewis_.” 

“Twat.” Nick pulls Louis closer, running his fingers down Louis’s back. “No one else either?”

“Not really.” Louis pulls a face. “I had a few shags with people I met in clubs, but I went off it after a while.”

“Didn’t you like it?” Nick tries not to sound too panicked because this is the bit he’s got down. If Louis doesn’t like it, it’s possible Nick is slightly fucked.

“It just didn’t…it wasn’t what I expected. Nothing bad, just not as good as I'd thought.” Louis’s cheeks get pink. He looks down at Nick’s hands, large on his thighs. “When you did that with your fingers it was different. I reckon it might be different with you.”

“Because I shoved my fingers in your mouth?” 

Louis laughs. “No, dickhead. Because I let you. Because I liked you doing that.” Louis shrugs and looks away. “Then you said you wanted to rim me, and no one's ever done that, either.”

“I like arses.” Nick grins at Louis. “And you showered just for the occasion.” Nick moves his finger slowly over Louis’s hole, not applying any real pressure just watching for Louis’s reaction. He loves having Louis like this, in his lap. He wants to leave Louis in no doubt that he can let go with Nick. The thing is, Nick loves sex but he prefers the doing to the receiving. He always has. He gets too up in his own head when people try to eat him out and sometimes he enjoys a good fucking but it has a tendency to leave him feeling stripped bare in a way other stuff doesn’t. He likes the physical sensations and he’s pretty amenable to most things, but unlike Louis, he doesn’t crave that feeling of letting go. He prefers to take control, to show off and watch someone come in a desperate, messy, rush so he can think _I did that_. 

“Nick…” Louis’s voice sounds a bit broken and his cock is already filling with interest again.

“No more pretending. I’ll look after you for real, how about that?”

Louis nods, his breath catching in his throat as Nick strokes over his hole again. “How do you want to do it?”

It’s odd, Louis being deferential to Nick. He likes it more than he cares to admit. He loves the contradiction of Louis being annoying, mouthy and fiery right up until Nick gets him naked. He thinks of all the things he could do with that – the games they could both enjoy together. It’s a lot to think about all at once and Nick tries to shove some of those filthier thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being. 

“Turn over and kneel around me here, bum up.” Nick pats the bed next to his backside. He lets himself drink in the sight of Louis who shuffles over, getting onto his hands and knees so his legs bracket Nick. It puts his lovely bum right in Nick’s eyeline, which is an excellent result all round. Nick gets his hands around Louis and pulls him in close, parting the cheeks of his backside. “No touching, love. Just let me look after you. Concentrate on holding yourself up.”

“I’m a P.E. teacher, Nick, I think I can hold myself up for a—” Louis stops as Nick begins to tease Louis with his tongue.

“What was that?” Nick pulls back and gives Louis’s backside another squeeze. He doesn’t wait for him to answer before diving back in. This time he dispenses with the teasing licks and flicks of his tongue. He loves doing this and he wants to make sure he gives Louis his very best effort. He focuses on holding Louis open, his mouth wet with his own saliva as he kisses, licks and tongues Louis with fervour. He can tell when the effort of holding himself up leaves Louis shaking and knows Louis is desperate as he pushes back for more, a litany of curses falling from his lips. 

“Okay, pet. So lovely, so good for me.” Nick’s voice is gruff as he pulls his mouth back from Louis’s arse. “Move down a bit onto your front, keep that gorgeous bum up for me.”

With a groan of relief, Louis slides easily onto his forearms, keeping his backside high just as Nick asked. Nick tears open a sachet of lube and deposits the slick substance so it makes Louis yelp from the sudden, wet cold. Nick likes it slick and messy. He likes a good, long fingering and he can’t help but think of the people not looking after Louis properly. He suspects it’s been longer than Louis cares to admit and even though he knows Louis is relaxed from the early tonguing, he wants to make sure everything he does feels almost unbearably good. With an easy slide thanks to the lube, Nick pushes a finger deep inside Louis. He pulls back and works his way in with two, watching as Louis’s thighs tremble and he muffles his pleas in the duvet. 

“Let me hear you. I like it.” Nick keeps his voice low and slides his hand over Louis’s cock as he fingers him. “Want to hear your voice, Lou.”

“Nick…I can’t….fuck, _Nick_.” Louis’s voice leaves him in a gasp as he tips his head so his voice is no longer muffled. He sounds so wild and desperate, and he shoves back against Nick’s fingers with a low moan. “ _Can’t_.”

Nick isn’t sure whether Louis can’t let go or can’t hold back, but he knows it’s not a _no_ or a _stop_ sort of can’t, so he keeps going. He curls his fingers, dragging them back and then pushes in again. He moves his hand quickly over Louis’s cock until he is just on the edge. With a strangled shout, Louis comes hard all over Nick’s fist, clenching around his fingers. Nick slowly pulls his fingers from Louis’s body and puts his hands on Louis’s hips which are shaking slightly. He doesn’t care that his hands are sticky with come and lube, he just wants to see Louis’s face. 

“Up, darling. In my lap, like before.”

Louis doesn’t need much encouragement. He moves into Nick’s lap and practically launches himself at Nick as they kiss. Nick keeps Louis close, touching the sweat-slick hair which sticks to his forehead and thumbing over the damp curve of his jaw. He touches the beating pulse on Louis’s neck and sighs into the kiss as Louis’s desperate, urgent kisses become slower. After another slow kiss, Louis finally pulls back. The expression on his face is caught somewhere between embarrassment and something light, hopeful and soft. Nick wants to wipe the embarrassment away for Louis, the _I can’t_ pulsing around his brain. 

“Nearly,” Nick says quietly, so caught up in his thoughts he barely realises he's speaking out loud. 

“Nearly?” Louis’s embarrassment fades replaced with the kind of stroppy look Nick is stupidly gone for. “What do you mean _nearly_?”

Nick picks his words carefully, because he wants to make Louis less self-conscious, not more. “Just talking to myself. It felt like you didn't want to let go there for a bit.”

“I did let go, though.” Even as he says it, Louis’s cheeks get more flushed and he sounds uncertain.

“Did you?” Nick kisses the slant of Louis’s chin, the soft lobe of his ear and the freckle on his shoulder. He noses along Louis’s neck, breathing in the delicious, sweaty, boyishness of him. “So you don’t want more?”

Louis groans, low in his throat. “God, Nick. Do you have to be such a smug tit?”

Nick decides to let that slide, mainly because yes, he does actually. “The thing is.” Nick presses his cheek against Louis’s, cupping the back of his neck in his hand and keeping Louis close as he speaks to him in a low murmur. “The thing is, I’m a bit pissed off at these other idiots of yours. It’s making me want to do all sorts to you. I want to see you let go without worrying about it, I don't want you to be bothered about showing me you're enjoying it or summat. I love watching you – I love _hearing_ you. It makes me so fucking hard, I can’t get enough.”

“Really?” Louis sounds as if he can’t quite believe it. “I’m not too…loud?”

“Of course you’re too loud, you’re a gobby little idiot.” Nick presses a kiss to the corner of Louis’s mouth and starts plotting ways to get back at anyone who ever made Louis feel like he was too anything. “If I didn’t like loud we wouldn’t have ended up here in the first place. I'm just saying I like you loud everywhere, not just when you're saying stupid things about my hair.” Nick pulls back, preening a little. “Besides, when you're loud about this it makes me feel wicked about myself.”

“Oh.” Louis seems stumped into silence. His face breaks into a smile. “I might have known you love people telling you how brilliant you are. Does this mean you don't like it when I’m a dick to you?”

“I don't mind it. I’m a glutton for punishment.” Nick sighs in a put-upon way. He can give as good as he gets and that’s the thing with him and Louis. There’s always been this _thing_ fizzing beneath the surface like a can of pop. It’s never been mean. Nick’s made fun of Louis for being the size of a garden gnome, but he’s never made fun of Louis for the dark circles he sometimes gets under his eyes or the way he chain smokes some evenings, sitting outside on a rickety deckchair, staring at the clouds and puffing away. Louis has made fun of Nick for everything from his quiff to his Britney t-shirt (rude), but when Nick got the parcel of his dreams he’d saved for two years for – the black YSL boots – Louis didn’t tell him they looked shit. He gave Nick a critical once over and said _like the boots, mate_. Nick nearly fell over. He wonders if it’s always been instinctive, knowing how far is too far. Perhaps, incredibly, they might be a better match than either of them realised.

Nick moves under Louis, enjoying the friction against his cock. He’s not in any rush to come, but he likes the build-up. “Anything else you’re worried about?”

Louis huffs with laughter. “Dunno. Feels weird, shagging you. Not bad weird. I don't want to make a twat of myself, because then I'd have to see you every day and I'd know you really thought it and it wasn't just because you're shit at trying to pull.”

Nick contemplates that, his fingers tapping over Louis’s hot skin. He likes Louis wriggling in his lap and looking sweaty, happy and peaceful and he doesn't want him to feel weird about anything. He wants to give him whatever he needs, he just needs to work out exactly what that is. He gets a decent handful of Louis’s gorgeous bum and squeezes it in his hands. 

“I wouldn't think you're a twat.” Nick frowns, thinking for a minute. “Wait, that's not true. You're a twat when you’re poisoning me with your cooking and scaring off my guests.”

“They deserved it,” Louis says. He gets a mutinous look as if he would go out of his way to scare off any more visitors. Nick is so into him he's glad it's not just Nick that's getting all territorial. Louis tangles Nick's necklaces between his fingers, shifting in place. “Do you want me to do anything with that knob of yours?”

“In a bit.” Nick grinds into Louis, his backside still slick and messy with lube. Louis rocks against him obligingly and it’s hot, sweaty and perfect. Nick sneaks a finger back inside Louis, just up to the first knuckle. It makes Louis groan with pleasure, and Nick wants to hear him make that sound over and over again. He brushes his lips against Louis’s collarbone, enjoying the way he tastes like sweat and beautiful, bratty, boy. His skin is salty with perspiration and he makes these little sounds that send Nick’s heart beating happily, like the hopeless case he is. Nick slides his finger from Louis’s body and rolls him onto his back, settling over him. He gives Louis a quick kiss on the nose, before moving south.

“You’re awful.” Louis sounds like he doesn't care in the slightest, his voice thick with arousal.

“Careful, or I’ll bite you.” Nick mouths over Louis’s cock, his words muffled as he tongues over Louis until he’s back to full hardness. “Don’t be a brat when my teeth are next to your dick.”

“You’re wonderful,” Louis amends. “A national treasure.” He laughs under his breath, the amusement trailing off into a _ohfuckyes_ of pleasure as Nick stops teasing and starts working his mouth properly over Louis.

Nick gets his hands under Louis’s bum – a part of Louis’s body he’s rapidly becoming obsessed with it seems – and takes his time taking Louis apart. Louis seems more relaxed than ever, lobbing the lube in Nick’s direction because he’s a demanding little menace and it’s entirely possible Nick is half-way to being hopelessly in love with him. Nick slicks his fingers again and works two deep inside Louis as he makes his cock slick with saliva, taking Louis deep into the back of his throat. His jaw aches, he thinks he might have a pube in the back of his throat, Louis keeps bucking up and shoving his cock further into Nick’s mouth, and Nick’s starting to get cramp in his hand from fingering Louis, but it’s somehow brilliantly, awkwardly perfect. He steadies Louis with a firm hand on his stomach, sliding off him just long enough for Louis to give him a disgruntled look.

“Want to fuck?” Nick pumps his fingers into Louis and curls them, dragging them back and watching as Louis clutches the sheets and groans. His cheeks are flushed pink, his torso beaded with perspiration and his hair looks as if he’s been taking fashion tips from a hedgehog. It’s the hottest thing Nick has ever seen.

“Yeah. Get on with it, will you?”

Nick grins, sliding on a condom and slicking his cock. He pushes Louis’s leg back into his chest and folds him nearly double, before getting Louis’s legs arranged in a way that lets Nick position himself properly. Finally, he pushes inside Louis with a grunt. It’s stupid, sappy and ridiculous but Nick can’t help but think it’s like coming home. It’s a sensory overload; a burst of sudden pleasure. The tight, clenching heat of Louis, the way Louis’s lips part and his hot gasp of breath strokes Nick’s cheeks. The look in Louis’s eyes and the taste of salt, sweat and unbridled hunger on his lips as Nick starts kissing him. Nick hadn’t even planned to do any fucking just yet. He can’t usually be bothered getting that point – chasing his orgasm as quickly as possible with frantic hand jobs or practiced blow jobs. Everything about Louis takes him by surprise, from the way Louis moves beneath him to the open, heated look of pleasure and want on his face as he stares up at Nick. Nick’s hand finds Louis’s cock and he strokes him awkwardly as Louis’s face twists and he shoves Nick’s hand out of the way, taking over.

“Shit. I won't last…”

“Doesn’t matter.” Nick pushes into Louis, hard. He wants Louis to not _care_. “Do it. I want to see you come, love.”

“ _Nick_.” With a low moan, Louis seems to lose himself in the moment as his hand picks up pace and he gives Nick a messy kiss. After a heartbeat, Louis clenches around Nick as he spills over his own hand. He collapses back on the pillows, boneless and panting as Nick gently lets his legs drop. He slides out of Louis, pulling off the condom with a snap and chucking it somewhere he'll regret later. He moves onto Louis’s chest and tips his chin back with his other hand, holder Louis's gaze. With a few final tugs on his cock, Nick comes over Louis, watching with barely concealed admiration as Louis dips his fingers in the mess Nick made and puts them into his mouth.

“Saucy.” Nick rubs his thumb over Louis’s lips, wondering when this obsession with seeing Louis get his mouth around things developed.

“I try.” Louis pulls a face as he looks at his chest. “I’m a mess.”

“A very attractive mess, darling.” Nick slides off Louis and collapses on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s this bit that’s usually awkward. Nick’s typically trying to think of subtle ways of booting someone out, so he can put on Bridesmaids and curl up with a bit of low fat mint choc chip ice cream and Pig. Now it’s awkward because he wants Louis to stay but doesn’t know how to ask if he still wants to, or if getting up close and personal with Nick's naked body has him looking for the exit. 

“Shall we get Harry round?” Louis pats his belly and wriggles against Nick’s sheets, messing things up even more. “I’m bloody starving.”

Nick’s heart swells because asking Harry to come over sounds very much like _I'm staying_. He glances at Louis. “Could get a Deliveroo if you like? Put on the telly, maybe.”

Louis gives Nick a slow smile, his eyes shining. “I want curry, chicken nuggets and chips,” he decides.

“You’re disgusting.” Nick leans over to kiss Louis on the corner of his smile. Unfortunately, Nick’s heart seems a bit easy for Louis Tomlinson. He probably wouldn't complain too much about buying Louis all the McDonald's chicken nuggets he wanted. If he didn't work for a pittance at Yorkshire FM he would buy Louis actual McDonald's.

“Don’t insult my takeaway choices, Nicholas.” Louis pulls a face. “You probably want to feed me something with spinach.”

“As if I would.” Nick reaches over Louis to grab his laptop. He wishes he had the foresight to delete his browsing history before going to work in the morning, but he can hardly be blamed for not expecting to end up Netflix and chilling with Harry’s flatmate. “Go on, then. Decide where you want to order from. I’m going to shower.”

“Can I pick a film too?” Louis looks excited by the prospect. “They just put Point Break on Netflix.”

Nick doesn’t think he’s seen Point Break in his life before, largely because he watches most of his films with Harry and if Nicholas Sparks isn’t involved it’s not happening. Seeing Louis happily tapping away on Nick’s laptop – probably ordering one hundred nuggets and download every Bourne film as they speak – Nick doesn’t have the heart to say no. He can make Louis watch Bridesmaids when he’s sleepy and unsuspecting. For now, Nick just wants Louis to keep his eager smile on his face and maybe stay until the morning.

“If you like.” Nick whistles as he goes into the shower, scrubbing every inch of his body clean. He can already feel the gentle tug of lazy arousal and he wonders if Louis might be up for round two after some food. He hopes so. He puts on some pants and a t-shirt, making his way back into the bedroom.

“Hi.” Louis looks up from the laptop, his gaze hungry and loaded. He runs his tongue over his lips and gives Nick the kind of smile that suggests he's very much up to something. “Got a spare towel?”

Nick grabs one from the drawer and chucks it at Louis, unable to hold back the broad smile breaking over his face. “Staying, then?”

“Yeah. Next time I'm showering with you. You can shampoo my hair.” Nick's heart gives a hopeful hop, skip, jump at the _next time_ and he watches as Louis stands, entirely unphased by his nakedness. He throws the towel over his shoulder and heads into the bathroom, calling out to Nick as he turns on the shower. “I picked a film.”

“Brilliant.” Nick rolls his eyes, already preparing himself for an evening of guns and car chases. He puts on his glasses and looks at the screen a hot flush spreading through him as he sees that Louis has, of course, had a nosey at Nick’s browsing history. “I leant my laptop to Harry,” Nick shouts out, receiving a loud laugh in response.

“Whatever you say, mate,” Louis yells back in a sing-song fashion. He sounds very pleased with himself. Nick has far too long to stew over his bad internet browsing decisions, before Louis returns. He hasn’t even bothered to put a towel around his waist, which means it’s probably in a messy pile on the floor of Nick’s bathroom. He crawls into bed and sprawls half over Nick, grinning up at him as he puts his pointy chin on Nick’s chest. He looks scrubbed clean, rosy-cheeked and far too angelic for the teasing he’s probably about to do. “Want to show me some of your porn while we wait for the food to arrive, Nick?”

It’s not the most romantic proposal Nick's ever heard, but Louis has already started running a crafty hand over Nick’s belly and he can feel himself responding eagerly to the touch. “We’ve just got clean,” Nick says, even as he tugs Louis up into his arms. “We don’t want to miss our food because we’re too busy shagging.”

“We’ll make this one quick, then.” Louis presses a kiss to Nick’s lips and selects a link. One of the lads in the film doesn’t look entirely unlike Louis, which of course is just a coincidence. It’s not like Nick has a type or anything. Louis looks smug, as if Nick has ‘porn stars that look like Louis Tomlinson’ in his Google history. “You like that?” Louis’s voice gets low and teasing as they watch definitely-not-Louis getting spanked, fingered and enthusiastically rimmed. “You’re such an old perv.”

“Oi,” Nick says. He squeezes Louis’s gorgeous bum. “I should spank you for that.”

“Yeah.” Louis’s eyes get dark. “You definitely should.”

All things considered maybe Louis finding Nick's porn wasn’t such a bad thing after all. “When’s the food arriving?”

“Dunno.” Louis closes down one tab and checks the Deliveroo page. “Half an hour?”

“Long enough.” Nick pulls Louis into a searching kiss that leaves them both breathless. “What’s for tea?”

“Apart from this?” Louis gives an impertinent wiggle against Nick, huffing with laughter. “I had a look at one of your old orders and got you what you like, don’t worry.”

A rush of affection makes Nick pull back from Louis to look at him. “I should think so.” His voice sounds so fond he’s fairly certain Louis doesn't miss it. “Least you can do after you put shell in my omelette.”

“Worked, though.” Louis looks pleased with himself, even as a note of doubt worms its way into his voice. “Didn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Nick closes down the laptop and puts it on the floor because he’d much rather watch actual Louis than some second-rate version on the internet. “It did.”

Nick sinks into another thoroughly messy, hot, brilliant kiss and makes a mental note to do something nice to thank Harry for his ridiculous plan. 

Louis makes eggs the next day and this time he doesn't put shell in them. 

Nick thanks him with a blow job against the kitchen counter, and they don't leave the flat for the rest of the weekend.

**Author's Note:**

> come and chat on [tumblr](https://writsgrimmyblog.tumblr.com/) \- rebloggable fic post thingy [here](https://writsgrimmyblog.tumblr.com/post/177669142230/knead-you-now-nick-grimshawlouis-tomlinson-by)


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